Blog 13. Lest We Forget June 21st

….I looked over my left shoulder and saw Zorg approaching the men through the dust, revealing his regimental patch. It seemed to be sign that he was a brother, not a stranger. And that their fallen would be escorted with dignity under his watch. He grabbed one end of the body bag and lifted it onto the floor of the griffon. Snapshot had moved across and pulled the soldier through, placing a seatbelt from a floor ring over his body to secure him. The casualty’s impromptu paul bearers reached out to our passenger. I couldn’t see what they did, a pat of compassion? Blessing? I don’t know. It was surreal. Their heads were low. Faces flaccid with exhaustion, tears, fear, anger, horror, stained with dust and sunburn – stoic.

Another soldier, a senior Warrant Officer, grabbed them and with some hand gestures reminded them it was time to get into a defensive position. The war was still on, they were more vulnerable with a helicopter in their position. Shots were expected.

The NCO looked at me and spun his hand in the air signalling for me to get out, now!

“Let’s go guys.” I called. “Cabin area.”

“Right gun ready, left gun ready.” Snapshot and Zorg called.

“Lifting, with a right turn out.” I started to pull in collective creating another explosion of dust as I inched across the ground, falling over the edge of Three-hills towards the wadi. The aircraft shuddered at maximum weight to gain flying speed. We burst through the dust bubble and skimmed across the trees toward Steel-door. On the right was FOB MADRAS; the few soldiers on watch saluted as we passed.

“Prof, you have the lead and the radios.” I sighed somberly.

“Roger that.” He responded.

It was the quietest flight I had at war. We flew high to avoid enemy fire. We weren’t hunting anymore today. I heard Prof’s voice now and again on the radio breaking the sound of wind and engines. It was peaceful for the moment flying towards the east morning sun. A beautiful sky, but such an ugly, deadly earth.

My heart throbbed. Everyone was quiet and humbled. The event tears a person in half. It is such a massive honour to carry your brother out of the field of battle. But he’s dead. Why should I feel honour when his family is going to feel nothing but pain and suffering. A mother’s worst fears. A spouses heart shattered. A child’s dreams turn to nightmares of confusion. The other aircraft circled for the two minutes it would take to allow our unencumbered approach showing respect the fallen but beloved Sgt McNeil, ending his first trip towards the Highway of Heroes.

I’ll never forget you. You are of the people I have never met but feel such loss for. Each Remembrance Day, I think of you.

Thanks very much for coming. Florence is a doll. It was an honour to serve and it is a challenge to share the emotions and intensity in script. But it is a great experience. I hope you get something out of it as i am of yours–just started reading.

Steve, you meld all 3 when you write your posts. Emotional (humanity), military knowledge and a kindness towards the reader to sweep us up along side of you in your ‘bird’ and be there with you in those moments. I love the dictionary of terms because it helps us to learn as well as remember what everything means.Keep writing…perhaps this is the precursor to your first book?

Thanks so much for sharing a part of yourself with us and for helping us get a glimpse (however small) into what you and your friends have been through. While your writing is perfect and really paints a vivid picture, I cannot imagine what it’s actually like to be in these situations. Can’t wait to read your other posts.